I spun, a completely non-graceful pirouette that splayed out the bags of groceries hanging off both elbows. Whatever it was I’d forgotten to grab vanished from my thoughts as glass shattered on behind me. I froze, bags bumping against me, eyes clenched as I dragged in a slow, steadying breath. It served me right. One of these days I would remember to write a list before I left the house. Even more effective, I might actually remember to bring it.
Then I would be saved the embarrassment of causing a scene in the middle of the store. The audible gasp that had accompanied the shattering glass signaled that maybe only a dozen or so people had witnessed me in the prime of walking disaster.
Someone shuffled up behind me, and I turned again, barely stopping myself before my errant bags crashed into another… vase? Who left a pile of vases just sitting in the middle of the aisle? I hadn’t even noticed them as I b-lined for the door.
“God, I am so sorry.” I tried to motion with my hands, but the store associate grabbed them and held on.
“Let’s put your bags down.” She helped them off my arms and turned away, probably to retrieve a broom.
Shame and horror ran an intense dance across my skin, equal parts heat and goosebumps. “I—sorry. So sorry,” I said to no one, dropping to the ground to do… something other than stand there like an idiot.
The pieces were large. The way it sounded as it crashed, it had shattered into a million pieces. A quick scan of the typical white and blue oriental vases, clear glass tubes, oblong fishbowls and half a dozen other varieties suggested any one of them might have.
Yet somehow the vase I’d murdered appeared quite resilient. The pieces were large and thick, more substantial than I expected as I lifted one up to examine it. Deep burgundy, obviously hand-thrown. I could see the grains of the clay along the fractured edges. It was a simple thing, understated beside its garish companions. No wonder I hadn’t seen it.
Well, I hadn’t really noticed any of them, but I would never have picked this one out, overwhelmed by the mess around it.
A set of hands joined mine, sliding a few of the pieces into a small pile.
“Looks like you did a number on this one.” His voice didn’t match what I expected as I looked up into a pair of brown, almost black eyes that crinkled just slightly at the edges with humor.
My cheeks flamed and I reached for another piece. “It was his lucky day, it would seem.” I flipped it over in my hands and discovered a bar code and a price tag. It must have been part of the base. And then I about threw up.
Seventy-eight dollars.
For a vase.
That I’d had every intention of paying for after I got it cleaned up. “Well it’s a bit proud of itself, isn’t it,” I sputtered, dropping the chunk into my small stack.
“One of a kind, I would bet.”
And who the hell was this guy? He didn’t work there, judging by his lack of nametag and vest.
“Good thing I like puzzles.”
My hand slipped, the comment taking me by surprise, and I stabbed a piece right into my finger. I managed not to cry out, but my question came out a bit more forced than I intended. “What?”
He reached over for the bit of vase with the bar code. “I like puzzles.”
“Give me that.” He couldn’t be serious?
“Not sure what you mean.” He pocketed the piece and reached for a small plastic pot on a different shelf. Why couldn’t she have run into that one?
“I need that bar code to pay for the vase.” As she said it, her stomach turned. Seventy-eight dollars.
“It’s taken care of.”
“No it’s not.”
He shrugged and started piling the pieces he’d collected gingerly into the plastic pot.
I gaped at him. I didn’t even know what to say. I could only watch. He might actually have been serious.
I tried one more time. “If you want the vase, that’s fine. But you have to let me pay for it.” I was sick about the price as it was, I couldn’t let some stranger just pay for it. This wasn’t some person buying the guy behind them’s coffee in some pay-it-forward scheme.
And besides that, who had seventy-eight dollars they could just throw away like that?
I took a moment, trying to figure out how to put my foot down without actually begging. The moment evolved into taking in the man’s leather shoes, black slacks, and button-down shirt she was pretty sure she’d seen embroidered with a brand she couldn’t even pronounce on the cuff.
Okay so maybe this guy could afford it. Still, that didn’t change it. When I opened my mouth to speak his pressed a finger to my lips. I jerked back, my personal bubble so far invaded I was shocked into silence.
“I am buying the vase. That’s the end of it.” He stood up and marched toward the checkout.
I stumbled after him, snatching up my bags and nearly taking out another vase as I went. “That’s not fair.”
“And I don’t care.”
I couldn’t decide if he was being an asshole or some kind of chivalric prince. Either way, it was pissing me off. “You have to let me make it up to you then.” Though offers of lunch or coffee or, hell, even dinner at most places I frequented, didn’t even come close to making up for it.
“No need.”
The checker behind the counter was turning the piece of the broken vase with the barcode over in his hands. He seemed as confused as I was about why someone would want to buy a broken vase. The man remained nonplussed, swiping his card into the machine.
“Well, I feel like a complete idiot now. So thanks for that.” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice.
“It’s really nothing. I hope your day gets better.”
“My day was fine, thanks.”
“Well, in that case, enjoy the rest of your day. And try not to kill any more vases.”
And with that, walked out of the store.
Alivia Patton 